


a dream at the back of the neck

by bintkelb



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bintkelb/pseuds/bintkelb
Summary: Keith doesn’t think anyone wouldn’t know who Lance is, and it’s highly unlikely the sentiment would be returned. Keith usually feels like a day gone by without being noticed is an exceptionally good day. And although he’s seen Lance from afar plenty of times and heard him messing around with his friends at the back of class he’s never been this close, or subject to Lance’s direct gaze. A flush of sudden heat floods his cheeks and the base of his throat. He feels rooted to the spot.





	a dream at the back of the neck

“Heads up!”

The voice calls out a mere second before a soccer ball lands with a sudden  _whump_  in the soil inches from Keith’s feet. He ducks just in time to avoid it colliding with the back of his head, losing his glasses in the process. Pidge whips around from her crouch at his side, scowling over her shoulder.

“What the fuck,” Pidge says. She stands up, trowel and plastic cup in hand. They’d been collecting samples for Pidge’s extra credit science project. The weekend prior they’d both been out by the river bank, feet sinking into mud as they dug their hand shovels into the bank.

“You could have really hurt him,” Pidge calls out, angry. Keith’s fingers scrabble in the foliage covered ground. He finds his glasses and manages to push up to his feet, wiping the lens on his shirt and squinting at the blurry approaching form before shoving them on his face.

“Sorry about that,” the guy says, and Keith recognizes him from first period.

“I’m Lance,” he says, flashing a brilliant smile.

“We know,” Pidge says, sourly, and Keith doesn’t say anything at all, suddenly tongue-tied. He doesn’t think anyone wouldn’t know who Lance is, and it’s highly unlikely the sentiment would be returned. Keith usually feels like a day gone by without being noticed is an exceptionally good day. And although he’s seen Lance from afar plenty of times and heard him messing around with his friends at the back of class he’s never been this close, or subject to Lance’s direct gaze. A flush of sudden heat floods his cheeks and the base of his throat. He feels rooted to the spot.

Lance swipes at his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiles, again, undeterred. His hair shines under the hot sun, sweat at his temples and darkening the nape of his tank. It hangs off the broad, well-muscled expanse of his chest. He looks like he’s lit from within, the tan skin of his collarbone and toned arms glowing. Keith had only dimly registered the sound of soccer practice as they’d made their way across the field to the edge of the surrounding treeline. Now he watches as in the distance, Lance’s teammates shuffle impatiently.

“Anyway, I’ll just - ” Lance says, gesturing at Keith and Pidge’s feet. He flashes another brilliant smile.

“Sure,” Keith says quickly, then feels himself flush again as Lance approaches. He shoots a glance at Pidge, who’s still scowling at Lance like she’s got a bad taste in her mouth.

They both shuffle to the side and Lance crouches to grab the football, tossing it up in the air once before catching it.

“See you around,” he says. Then he winks at Keith, sly and quick, and Keith feels his heart leap up his throat. He stays silent, like a fucking idiot, and watches Lance lope off across the field, ball in hand, running the last half back to the group behind the bleachers.

“Asshole,” Pidge mutters under her breath. Then she’s bending back down. “Come on, I promised we’d both be home by six.” 

*

On Thursday, Keith watches Pidge jump hurdles around the track, her skinny legs nearly blurring as she sprints. He’s regretting not bringing his sunglasses, squinting through the bright sunlight, an almost overwhelming press of heat making the air thick and the metal bleachers shine. He alternates watching the runners with curling over his Biology textbook, its pages gone limp with humidity.

The sun is lower in the sky when Coach pulls the final whistle. The team gathers round the base of the bleachers. Pidge squints up at Keith and waves him on. He can wait for her in the student parking lot as usual.

Keith stuffs his book into his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, shuffling down the narrow space. He’s cutting under the bleachers for a shorter route when a muffled cough draws him up short. A hand descends on his shoulder and he nearly jumps a mile in his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Keith turns in surprise, mouth dropping open. It’s a guy Keith vaguely recognizes from school; with a pale, narrow face and nearly colorless eyes. He shoves at Keith’s shoulder.

“I - ” Keith starts. Then a second voice cuts in.

“Hey! Chill the fuck out.”

Keith turns around to see Lance, scowling, fingers pinched around a visibly rolled cigarette. Then the smell assaults Keith’s sense and -  _oh._

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean I didn’t see anything. I can just leave now,” Keith says, pushing a palm out in a calming gesture.

“No, you’re fine. Stay,” Lance replies, but his eyes are still on his companion. “You can fuck off, Chris.”

Chris shoots Keith a dirty look, then swivels on his heel, sticking his middle finger back up at Lance.

Keith glances uneasily between the two, but Lance doesn’t seem bothered. His frown turns into a slow, easy smile.

“Sorry about that. Keith, right?”

Keith’s heart leaps to his throat. Under Lance’s singular, undivided gaze again he can feel a sweat starting up at his temples for whole other reasons than the sun beyond their shelter.

“Um. Yes. Hi.”

“Hey,” Lance says, and his grin goes wide. He offers up the blunt. “Want a hit?”

“Um.” Keith thinks about Pidge, the slot of time he has before she’ll be waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Get over here,” Lance says, then he walks a couple of paces back, and drops to the ground behind one of the supporting columns. They must have both been hidden there when Keith walked by, unnoticed. Keith follows with hesitant steps. Lance’s sitting on a square block of concrete. He pats the second block to his side.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, and Keith can hardly believe it’s happening even as he’s stepping closer. He’s never had a guy like Lance look twice his way, never been in the right type of crowds to be initiated into this flavor of extracurricular activity. It feels secret and new and special, just between the two of them. Lance was asking  _him_  to join.

Keith clears his throat and sits down on unsteady legs. Lance squints at him, then sticks the blunt to his lips and sucks. His face goes pinched. He doesn’t exhale, just offers it to Keith with a nod of his head.

Keith tries to imitate the gesture, calling on every fragment of knowledge he’s ever picked up to not make a complete fool of himself. He ends up coughing it out anyways, turning to the side as he curls over. Lance exhales on a laugh. Keith’s cheeks burn.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Keith rasps out.

“Nah, nah. It’s fine,” Lance says. He gives an easy, light laugh, and Keith wonders at how he hasn’t noticed Keith’s entire world has flipped upside down. Miraculously, Lance isn’t shoving Keith away and telling him to get lost.

“Come on, like this.” Lance demonstrates again. He looks Keith in the eye while he’s doing it, and it’s like Keith’s rooted to the spot, unable to look away, heart pounding in his chest as Lance holds his gaze.

When Keith takes the proffered blunt again Lance’s eyes flick down to Keith’s lips.

“Yeah, man,” he says softly. It’s innocuous, almost nonsensical, but it makes something curl up tight in Keith’s gut.

“Much better,” Lance says, when Keith manages to not completely hack out the tiny puff he takes. Lance smiles wide and Keith flushes, heart expanding with a weird burst of pride even as his lungs burn. The moment stretches into a strange spot of silence, Lance just watching Keith, and Keith looking back until it gets too much and his eyes slide to the ground. He spots his discarded bag on the grass by his feet.

“I should - I should go,” Keith says, reluctantly. He looks up at Lance hesitantly, ready for rejection like a slap. Lance gives a single shrug of his shoulder.

“Alright, man,” he says. His eyes are slightly bloodshot but he still manages to look like he’s been dropped out of the pages of a glossy magazine’s photoshoot. Keith’s struck all over everytime he gets a good look.

Keith grabs his bag and pushes up to his feet.

“See you?” he says, pulse at his throat, daring to hope even a little bit, feeling stupid the instant he says it.

“Yeah,” Lance says, knocking his head back to look up at Keith with a smile. Keith walks away quickly, before the moment is ruined, heart pounding happily in his chest.

*

He has every intention of telling Pidge when he sees her, but somehow the words get caught in his throat when he calls out her name.

“Everything alright?” she calls out, turning in place. She’s standing by a giant, white Ford truck. Its wheels come up to her hips. She looks even smaller than usual as Keith approaches.

“Fine,” Keith replies, breathing hard. Pidge scrutinizes his face for all of a second, and for a moment Keith thinks it must all be showing, wonders if he’s got a smell on him. Then Pidge’s turning and Keith is joining in step at her side, and the moment passes in a breath, coalescing into a pulsing secret, something special Keith holds in his chest.

*

Keith’s leaving school on Monday in a rush, head tucked down as he takes the side steps to the parking lot two at a time. Pidge had come down with a cold on Saturday night, sniffling through their nearly weekly rewatch of Parks and Recreation, her laugh congested and low. By Sunday Keith had been turned away at the door in case he got sick too, which had made two very lonely days in a row at home and school.

He isn’t looking when he literally walks into Lance, breath rushing out of his chest as they collide.

“Whoa,” Lance says, grabbing Keith by the shoulder. His backpack hangs off one arm. It looks nearly empty.

“God. Sorry,” Keith says. He feels like burning up on the spot as soon as he says it, cursing himself for probably demolishing whatever tiny good cred he’d racked up with Lance.

“No problem,” Lance says, with a laugh, and Keith calms down just a tiny bit. “You walking home?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Want a ride?” Lance asks. Keith blinks back in surprise.

“I mean. It’s probably out of your way.”

“Is it nearby? Come on, I owe you.”

“For what?” Keith blurts out, genuinely puzzled. He flushes as soon as the words leave his mouth. If he could just get one fucking thing right--

“For being a cool dude,” Lance says. He rolls his eyes a bit and Keith’s face goes hot. Obviously, what he really meant was he probably completely expected Keith to snitch.

“No. I mean, I wouldn’t have - ”

“I know. It’s no bother,” Lance says, then he’s reaching in his pocket and tossing his keys in the air, turning away like he just expects Keith to follow.

Lance’s got a two door dark blue Toyota, its windows nearly tinted black. It smells sleek and new inside, and Keith slides gingerly onto the low seat. He clutches his bag in his lap as Lance turns the steering wheel easily, and they roll out of the lot. Lance’s hands are well formed and experienced on the wheel and gear, muscle moving under the skin of his well toned forearms. Keith’s eyes flick down to the scoop of well-toned chest he can see beneath Lance’s tank.

“Gotta tell me where to turn,” Lance says.

“Right,” Keith says, with a start, turning back to the road. He can see Lance smile out of the corner of his eye. “Um, take a right at the light and then another at the first intersection after.”

“You walk home every day?” Lance asks, glancing at the sideview mirror to switch lanes.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“With that girlfriend of yours?”

“What? I mean, no. She’s not my girlfriend,” Keith says quickly. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as soon as the words leave his mouth, mind racing, wishing he could just open the door and roll away.

“Cool. It’s whatever,” Lance says, with a shrug. Then he reaches out and clicks on the radio, turning the volume up with a twist of his fingers.

They fall into silence. It’s weirdly comfortable. Keith’s still hyper aware of every part of his body, the few inches between him and Lance, the fact that he’s sitting here, driving round with the music blasting with Lance like every music video and YA novel had ever promised him. He directs Lance the rest of the way until they’re pulling up to Keith’s house. Instead of stopping on the street, Lance turns into the empty driveway. Keith’s mom is still at work, probably scheduled on a double shift since she isn’t home yet.

Lance parks and pulls the brake. He turns to Keith.

“Thanks for the ride,” Keith says. It comes out more of a question.

“No problem,” Lance says, easily. He raises an eyebrow, amused with something Keith can’t quite discern, like they’re sharing a private joke between them.

“Um. Wanna come in?” Keith ventures. He can’t think of any other reason for Lance’s pause, half expecting him to still suddenly tell Keith to fuck off, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Except Lance only nods and turns the engine off with a twist of his hand.

“Sure,” he says, and Keith scrambles quickly from the car.

*

Keith prays to every deity on the way up the front porch steps that he doesn’t somehow mess up - whatever this is.

“This is the living room,” Keith says, stupidly, as the door swings open. He makes a vague gesture with his hand. Lance only smirks a little, nodding casually. He follows Keith to the kitchen, sliding easily onto one of the bar stools at the bordering counter.

“Want a drink?” Keith asks, hovering near the fridge.

“Just water, thanks,” Lance says. His eyes are steady on Keith as he moves, bright and intense. Keith feels it like a laser focus even as he turns his back. He grabs a jar of salsa from the fridge, a plate, and a bag of nachos. They take their loot to the den.

“Mind if we hang for a while?” Lance asks, settling on the floor at the foot of the sofa. “I got an hour before I need to head back.”

Keith follows, slotting the plate on the coffee table a few inches away.

“Sure. I mean. Why are you here?” Keith says, before he can help himself. Lance is already reaching for the remote.

“Cause you’re a cool dude, man,” Lance says easily, he’s raising an eyebrow like it’s the simplest answer in the world. Keith feels his cheeks go warm and his tongue go heavy. This is the moment he should say something back, something light and sarcastic and cool. But he stays rooted to the spot, blinking and flushing as Lance’s attention turns away. Keith groans internally. He focuses on the screen and racks his brain for something to say. He’s so near now he can almost feel the warmth of Lance, can see up close the definition of his broad chest and toned arms. His throat goes hot, his belly tight.

They eat and watch for a silent few minutes. Keith crunches heavily on a handful of nachos before he realizes what he’s doing, and shamefaced, tries to put down the few he has left without drawing Lance’s attention. Guys like Lance don’t stuff their faces like that, don’t get the bodies they have eating nachos and watching TV. If Lance notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Keith’s halfway to relaxed when the movie they’re watching switches to commercials. He’s been so wrapped up on Lance’s presence he barely notices until he feels Lance nudging at his arm.

“Hey,” Lance says, when Keith turns his way.

“Hey,” Keith replies slowly. Lance is just smiling at him. Then he’s pushing the plate between them ahead, and Keith’s heart is at his throat. He’s frozen in place as Lance leans over, head tilted like he’s asking Keith a question. He pauses an inch away from Keith’s mouth and Keith holds so still he isn’t even breathing. Then Lance leans down and presses his lips to Keith’s; a brief, soft kiss. He pulls away.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

Keith’s reply is nearly inaudible.

“Yeah.”

Lance smiles in response. Then he’s leaning forward again, kissing Keith harder. Keith tries to reciprocate, pummeled with surprise and sensation and the tumult of his own thoughts. He’d thought about how his first kiss would go more times than he could count, but it’s happening so fast he barely has time to react. Lance licks into the seam of Keith’s lips and Keith opens his mouth, unsure, feeling hot and flushed, desire pooling low in his gut.

“Mmm,” Lance says against Keith’s lips. “Just like that.”

Then he’s kissing Keith, really kissing him, the way Keith’s seen it done in countless movies and never thought he’d get to do the same. Not anytime soon anyways, not with someone like Lance. He hears the television switch back to their movie but Lance doesn’t stop. Just leans even closer, cups a hand to the side of Keith’s face, thumb rubbing slowly at his jaw as they kiss. When Lance finally pulls away Keith’s panting, chest moving as he breathes.

Lance keeps his hand on Keith’s face. He slides his thumb along the sensitive, wet surface of Keith’s lips.

“You’re good at that, man,” Lance says, rubbing at Keith’s lips.

“Thanks,” Keith mumbles softly. He tugs at the front of his shirt where it’s settled on the round curve of his stomach, hit all over again with what’s just happened, with Lance’s body so close to his, Lance’s hand on his face like a live wire of energy. He’s half-hard in his jeans, and he tries to make an abortive movement to cover himself. Lance’s thick eyelashes sweep down as he takes note. His smile is lazy and knowing.

“Got a little excited, huh?” he asks. Keith lets out a small, embarrassed sound. He tries to curl his knees up to cover himself.

“No, man, it’s okay.” Lance says. He pushes Keith’s knees back down. Then he looks up at Keith from under his eyelashes, eyes wide, innocent. “Can I see it?”

Keith feels like he might burst into flames at the question. He just sits there and stares at his crotch as Lance huffs out a laugh and reaches between them. He watches Lances’ fingers unbutton and unzip the front of his jeans.

“Relax,” Lance says, and Keith realizes he’s sitting as frigid as a mannequin. Keith lets his arms go slack at his sides. He watches it like it's happening outside his body, his thoughts moving too fast to really register. It feels both surreal and astonishingly vivid at the same time. Lance reaches into the opening of Keith’s jeans and pulls Keith’s dick out. It swells even harder as Lance gives it a firm, slow stroke, from base to tip.

“Nice,” Lance says, appreciatively. The foreskin slides under his hand as he strokes Keith again. Keith makes a low, cut-off moan.

“Yeah, lemme hear you,” Lance says, stroking him again. A bead of precome forms at the tip as Lance gives him another firm stroke.

“Oh,” Keith says, hips jerking up He’s getting harder and harder, so fast it’s nearly dizzying, his balls growing heavier. Then Lance’s licking at the palm of his hand and stroking Keith, up the length and over the head, rubbing at the wet slit with his thumb. Keith huffs out tiny breaths. Then Lance is leaning over and licking right across the head with the flat of his tongue, squeezing at the base.

“Lance,” Keith squeaks out. He clutches desperately at the side of his jeans. Lance is giving him head, blowing him , Keith realizes. And then Lance really is. He’s going deeper, opening his mouth and sucking hard on the top of Keith’s cock, stroking up and down the length, and Keith’s gut is drawing tighter and tighter, his balls lifting up, Lance sucking wet and filthy until Keith comes with a jerk of his hips.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Keith lets out, lost to it. His head knocks back as his dick shoots.

“Yeah, look at that. Come on, Keith. Come on,” Lance says, jerking Keith through it. He makes a mess of Lance’s hands and the crotch of his jeans, but Keith is heedless of it, breathing hard and crying out. When Keith returns to his senses he realizes Lance’s just watching him, a small smile playing on his lips.

“That was something, huh?” he says, and all Keith can do is breathe and nod his head weakly.

“You gonna return the favor?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow. Keith flushes, caught off guard.

“I mean. Yeah. Sorry,” he says, sitting up quickly. He glances down to Lance’s crotch. He’s hard, a noticeable bulge tenting out his jeans. Lance’s only response is a smirk. He leans back against the sofa and stretches his arm out on the seat behind Keith. He nods down once at his crotch.

“Go ahead,” Lance says. Keith’s fingers fly to Lance’s crotch. He tries to imitate the way Lance did it with him, taking him out and stroking him. Lance is unbelievably hard and thick, his cock flushed at the head, a string of precome pumping out as Keith strokes him.

“Wanna kiss it?” Lance asks, a smile in his voice. Keith flushes hard. He leans down in response, embarrassed and too aware of how silly he must look, how inexperienced he is next to Lance. He licks across the head hesitantly.

“Yeah, man. There you go,” Lance sighs out. His hips jut up. Then his hand settles on the back of Keith’s neck and he’s pushing him down a bit, a touch of pressure. “Take it in a little more.”

Keith gathers up his resolve, determined. He sucks on the head and moves an inch down the length, then back up again.

“There you go. You’re a pro,” Lance says. His hand goes tighter on the back of Keith’s neck, and if he was thinking of just stroking him through it, he changes his mind, unease and embarrassment flooding his chest. He can’t push back against that, he has to show Lance he can do it just as well, that he won’t be a disappointment. Keith keeps sucking on him, up and down, bobbing his head steadily. Lance is thick in Keith’s mouth, salt and sweat and blood-hot under his fingers. He pushes Keith down more so that he’s almost hitting the back of Keith’s throat on the downstroke. Keith goes too far down and gags a little. Lance’s fingers are so tight on his neck, implacable.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. Love hearing you work on it. You’re so fucking good,” Lance says, crooning it out. Keith has a moment to feel incredulous before he’s being pushed down again. Lance’s hips are undulating, helping to move his cock in and out of Keith’s mouth. Keith strokes as hard and fast as he can at the base with his hand. He takes Lance in one more time before Lance is gritting out a curse and his hips are twisting.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck. Yeah - fucking, take it,” Lance’s saying, and his hand goes heavy and hard on Keith’s neck, not letting him back up. His dick jerks and shoots in Keith’s mouth and Keith swallows it unsteadily, sloppy, choking a bit on the wet. He pushes back against Lance’s hand but it doesn’t let up until he’s done. Then it’s gone and Keith’s pulling off with a gasp, coughing against the back of his hand. Lance is completely boneless against the sofa, eyelids slid shut, chest moving hard as he breathes. Then he’s opening his eyes and turning his heavy-lidded gaze Keith’s way.

“You almost held off on the end there.”

“Sorry,” Keith replies, quickly, stricken with guilt. He hadn’t meant to do that. But Lance is smiling again, lazy and warm, mood like fast moving clouds after a summer storm.

“No man, it’s fine. You did really great, you know that?”

“Thanks,” Keith replies. Wonder passes through him, making him feel light as a balloon. He was sure he had made a mess of it.

Lance just keeps smiling at him for what feels like forever. Then he’s pulling his phone from his pocket and  _oh, he’s got something in 20 minutes, Keith doesn’t mind does he_ , and Keith’s scrambling to his feet to grab some tissues, tongue-tied and overwhelmed and feeling like he’s moving through a dream.

*

After Lance leaves Keith stands at the front door for a long moment, frozen in something like shock. He walks back to the den and stares down at the floor where they’d been sitting, at the half-empty plate of nachos, at the TV still playing on, unwatched. This is it. This actually happened. He got off with a guy, got a fucking hot guy touching his dick and letting Keith touch him back.

He cleans up so the room is spotless before his mom comes home, glancing over it twice before leaving for his room. He washes up in his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror like he expects something to be different now. But his face looks just like it always does, solemnly staring back.

Pidge calls as he’s doing homework for Physics. She still sounds congested and a little hoarse, but she’s able to hold the conversation and sounds eager to be back the next day. Keith feels the events of the afternoon heavy on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to slip out, but he still stays silent. It’s just between him and Lance, this thing between them, the way Lance had singled him out and chosen him from all the people he could hook up with, and who knows, maybe Keith was just one in several more. By the time Pidge hangs up Keith has resolved to put a little effort into it. Lance was interested, that was clear. Keith just had to show a little more interest back.

*

Keith skips homeroom and wanders towards the gym the following morning. He ducks under the bleachers just as he did last time, except this time he strides purposefully through the small space. He finds Lance again, with three other seniors huddled in a small circle, laughing and talking. Lance spots him before his friends, and he nearly launches to his feet, the smile on his face dropping in an instant. Keith lurches to a halt. Hesitation and confusion bloom in his chest as Lance strides quickly closer.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lance asks in a fierce whisper, leaning close to Keith.

“Hey! Lance! Get back here!” one of the seniors calls back.

“I - ” Keith starts. He takes a step to the side and Lance blocks him, matching Keith’s step. His lips are tight.

“I just - ” Keith tries again, embarrassment making his tongue heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, doesn’t know what to say, feels like maybe he wants the earth to open below him right there and swallow him up.

Lance seems to relent a little.

“Just. Not right now. Whatever it is,” he says, and all Keith can do is nod dumbly. Lance’s expression smoothes out, relief clear on his face.

“Okay,” Keith says, in a weak voice.

There’s another shout behind Lance. A loud, sharp cackle. Keith flinches and turns quickly away, stumbling as he walks back, heart squeezing and squeezing at his throat.

*

Keith feels like he’s got something stuck in his chest for the rest of the day. His stomach twists so miserably he has to beg for a hall pass to go heave over a toilet in 5th period. As the hours pass he forces himself to calm down, to rationalize it. It was just a misunderstanding, that’s what it was. He’d built it up so fast and big in his head, when it was just - guys like Lance probably hooked up with someone new every week. It was just a kiss. And then a blowjob, so what?

He wasn’t a kid to believe in romance or fairy tales. In the real world, people hooked up all the time and it didn’t mean anything. Sex was just sex. And in light of that realization, Keith bursts with embarrassment all over again remembering his actions, the stupid way he’d gone looking for Lance, thinking he was gonna be his  _boyfriend_  or something. This was the right thing to do, the grown up, adult way to deal with it; to look at it from afar, from a distance, to file it calmly away.

*

Weeks pass. Pidge gets better and the two of them are inseparable again. By the time there’s a chance to say anything there’s nothing to say anymore. Keith sees Lance a handful of times, and each time manages to duck out of the way so he won’t force Lance to see him, to make anything weird in front of his friends again.

It’s early evening on a Wednesday when the doorbell rings, and Keith opens the door to find Lance standing a foot away, smiling sheepishly. Lance’s attention feels like a physical force, rushing all the air out of Keith’s lungs. He feels small and weirdly embarrassed for no reason, suddenly aware of the threadbare pajamas he’d already changed into, the crumbs on his shirt.

“Hey,” Lance says, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. He gives a single shrug of one shoulder, like he’s responding to something Keith hasn’t said. Wide, bright eyes and a blinding smile. He reaches up and pushes his hair back in a familiar gesture. He looks painfully, impossibly handsome.

“Hi,” Keith says in response. Then the door’s opening almost of its own accord.

Keith follows Lance into the house, trailing after him as he surveys the living room. Lance walks casually into the kitchen, and Keith follows after like Lance is giving him a tour of his own home.

“How’ve you been, man?” Lance asks, turning Keith’s way, and it’s like everything else disappears from mind.

“Fine,” Keith says. He feels his face go hot. His gut twists up tight.

“That’s good,” Lance says, nodding. He takes a step towards Keith, and Keith instantly takes a step back.

“Listen,” Lance says, stopping. He raises an outstretched hand, then lets it fall. He scratches at the side of his head, looking up at Keith with wide eyes. “I was a fucking asshole, man. I got nothing else I can say, you know? No excuses.”

Keith’s dumbstruck for all of a moment. Then he’s nodding his head.

“Okay,” he says, and it’s like that single word releases all the pressure in his chest. He feels light in that moment, selfless in his ability to forgive.

“Cool,” Lance says, smiling wide. He walks the rest of the way to Keith and stands for a moment before him. Then he’s cupping Keith’s jaw in his hand gently and leaning forward to kiss him. It’s soft, sweet. Lance nudges and nudges at Keith’s lips until he’s opening up for him. Then he’s sliding his tongue inside and kissing him fully, making soft, pleased, encouraging sounds. Keith’s whole body lights up. Relief and pleasure and excitement, and it’s like the past few weeks were nothing. Already floating away.

“Can we take this elsewhere?” Lance whispers, right up against Keith’s lips like it’s a secret. Keith nods readily.

*

In his room, Keith’s all nerves again. He stands dumbly next to his bed and watches Lance enter, turning in place as Lance wanders around the room briefly. He pauses in front of Keith’s Mathlete medals, dangling off the edge of his dresser.

Then he turns without a word and stops in front of Keith. He smiles, places a hand right in the middle of Keith’s chest and pushes him down on the bed. Keith acquiesces soundlessly, gazing up at Lance as Lance crawls over him, straddling Keith’s body. Lances leans down to kiss Keith, his weight pinning Keith down to the mattress. His presence feels completely overwhelming, Keith’s thoughts slow like molasses, slipping through his fingers like sand.

Lance settles at Keith’s hips and rocks down slowly as he kisses Keith. Keith tries to keep his head on. He’s better at it this time around, able to enjoy the slowly gathering heat between them, the way he feels Lance harden against his own swelling dick. The pressure on his crotch is amazing as Lance rocks and rocks against him, rolling his hips.

“Yeah, that’s it. Still as good as I thought you were,” Lance mutters against Keith’s lips. He stares down at Keith, gaze heavy. Keith licks nervously at his lips. They feel puffy and a little bit swollen; that good, achy feeling that still feels so new.

“You got anything?” Lance asks. It takes a moment for the question to register.

“Um. Yeah. I do,” Keith says, curling up suddenly.

“Whoa, big boy,” Lance says, laughing.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, but Lance is already moving off, still grinning, unbothered. His hands go to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it up. Keith’s frozen for a moment, staring at the flat expanse of Lance’s stomach, the well-toned muscle of his chest.

“Like what you see?” Lance asks teasingly, catching his tongue between his teeth. Keith flushes and jolts into motion. His fingers feel numb as he searches in his nightstand drawer for the secreted packet of lube he’d bought a while back, doling it out dollop by dollop over several nights, reaching between his legs and behind his balls to touch himself there, sticking a finger or two in at a time. He’d shut his eyes and let his mind wander, thought about how it would feel when he did it for real with someone else, how special it would be that first time.

He hands the packet to Lance who’s out of his jeans and briefs, fully naked. His body’s like a statue at a museum, perfectly sculpted. Keith wishes it was darker out so he could turn off the light, feeling exposed and clumsy and embarrassed as he pulls down his own jeans. He leaves his shirt on, crawls into bed. His pulse is beating fast, making him swallow and tremble.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lance says, softly. He curls over Keith in bed and kisses him again. Once Keith’s visibly calmer, Lance pulls back and reaches for the lube. His cock is long and thick between his legs, swaying slightly in the air. Lance slicks up the length quickly.

“Open,” he says, pushing at Keith’s knee. Keith spreads his legs, keeping a tight grip on the hem of his shirt so it doesn’t ride up to expose his belly. Lance reaches between Keith’s legs and slicks up his cock expertly, each stroke eliciting a soft, wet sound. Keith’s heart hammers at his chest as he watches. Then Lance is kneeing up closer, so this legs meet the back of Keith’s thighs, and he’s pushing at Keith’s shins.

“Pull ‘em up,” Lance says. Keith obeys, fitting his hands over his knees and pulling them closer to his chest, exposing himself. He flushes and Lance smiles sharp. He doles out a bit more lube on his fingers and ducks them down, rubbing them at Keith’s hole. A tiny noise escapes Keith. He’s breathing hard through his nose. The muscle of Lance’s forearm moves as he circles his hand, wetting Keith’s entrance, then slipping in two fingers. He moves them inside Keith, wetting up his insides. It feels like nothing at first, a slight pressure, a distant almost good feeling.

“Yeah?” Lance asks, watching Keith’s face. Keith nods. He isn’t sure what the question is. Then Lance’s fingers are moving round intently, like he’s feeling for something. He jams them up a few times, rubbing and feeling and sliding them in tiny circles until he hits a spot that makes Keith’s cock jerk across his stomach, a spark of pleasure deep up inside him.

“Oh,” Keith says.

“There you go,” Lance breathes out. He withdraws his fingers quickly and gives his cock a quick stroke. “Alright, open up wide, baby.”

Keith clutches at his knees. He tucks his chin down to watch as Lance steadies his hard cock and presses it to Keith’s entrance. Keith’s breath puffs out, desperate and small. They both watch as Lance slowly feeds it in, opening Keith up, the pressure increasing, ever so slowly stretching him out.

“Uh,” Keith gasps out. It’s big and long and thick. When Lance finally bottoms out Keith feels like he can barely breathe around it. Lance pauses for a long moment, his expression tense. Then he leans down to kiss at Keith’s mouth.

“Take it so fucking good. Look at how good you take it,” Lance whispers between kisses. Keith goes so warm he feels like he might explode. Then Lance is moving. Long, deep thrusts that stroke at something inside Keith, making all the blood rush to between his legs. His cock grows heavier, lifting off his stomach and bobbing in the air with the movement.

“There you go. There you go,” Lance says. He increases the pace, slamming his hips down, his hand sliding to grip at Lance’s side.

“Look at that ass bounce. Fuckin gorgeous - tight cunt - fuck. Yeah. Yeah.”

“Lance,” Keith says, weakly. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. His thoughts feel distant, like he’s waiting for them as he would for a train on a platform. “Lance.”

It’s building up inside him, deeper and stronger than it's ever happened before. It keeps coming. His mouth drops open and his head knocks back and Lance is still going, whispering filth between them. Then Keith’s gut is drawing up tight and his ass clenches down and he’s coming.

“Ah, ahh, ah,” Keith cries out. His cock shoots off as Lance keeps pounding him, relentless as Keith comes on it, clutching at it as it thrusts in and out of his hole. Lance slams in one last time and stops. Then his dick is shooting off inside and the movement goes even wetter than before as he grinds against Keith.

“Yeah. There you go. Take it so good,” Lance says, breathing hard and smiling wide. Keith opens wet eyes to watch him, still shaking through the tiny aftershocks. Lance’s face is flushed, pink crawling up the tan skin of his throat.  Lance breathes out shakily a few times more, then he’s sitting back, his cock pulling out in a wet slide.

Then Lance moves off without another word, kneeing off the bed. Keith watches him go, blinking, searching for something to say. The bathroom door shuts with a click. The fan turns on.

*

Lance takes a minute to wash up. He might get back into bed when he returns Keith thinks, so he cleans up as best he can and sits up, wracking his brain for something to say. He’s got leftovers in the fridge. He could heat that up. They could log into his mom’s Netflix and have a movie night.

The door swings back open.

“Hey,” Keith says, as Lance emerges. Lance is still completely naked, eyes scanning the floor. Keith watches as he leans down to pick up his discarded briefs.

“What’s up,” Lance replies, easily. He steps into his briefs, pulls them up his legs. They’re tight around the toned muscle of his thighs. 

“I thought we could, maybe do something? We could watch a movie, maybe...” Keith’s voice trails off as he watches Lance move closer, picking up his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head. His hair appears first in the neck opening, then his face, serious, a slight frown marring his forehead. He looks up with an apologetic expression.

“Oh, man. It’s just, really bad timing, you know?” Lance says. He moves back to the bathroom and through the open door Keith watches as he smoothes down the sides of his hair, fixing something indiscernible to Keith.

“Ok. Um. Want something to eat?” Keith tries again. Then, something tight crawling up his throat, “You don’t have to go.”

He scoots to the edge of the mattress. His stomach twists up weird. He feels close to panicked without knowing why, or what it is he said, but he can feel it like a wall descending between them. He can see the inevitability of the moment passing him by like a ship coursing through water.

“I’m good, man,” Lance says, walking back, a hand to his stomach. Then he pauses. “Hey. This was fun, you know? I’m glad I met you.”

Keith blinks in response.

“Thanks,” he says, slowly.

Lance grins wide. Then he’s turning and striding across the small space. The door opens then shuts with a soft click.

*

 


End file.
